In Need of a Tracor

This was a short story based off a newspaper article that I found in the police log that read: "Man throws cat out window, punches woman in the face due to lack of internet service."

“Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and I can finally pick my crops and finally buy my tractor. What level will I be on? One-hundred twenty-seven? That’ll probably give me about five hundred coins and then that’ll definitely be enough to get that tractor. What time is it anyway?”

The clock flashed seven in the morning.

“I have been up literally eighteen hours. Eighteen hours!? I’m suppose to take my medication every ten hours or as soon as I wake up. Eight more minutes. I can wait eight minutes to take my medication. Man, I have a headache.”

Timothy Spiker is thirty-four years old and doesn’t have a job. He lives in a second-story apartment with his pear shaped sister, Patricia, who is only there because Timothy cannot afford to live by himself. Patricia works five days a week at the Pet-Co down the street. She probably only works there so she can take care and see several cats a day. If it weren’t for Timothy living with her, she would be the classic lady who lives alone with several cats, so really, Timothy is doing her the favor.

Six more minutes.

His head pounded against his temples and pulsed with the sound of thunder cracking outside his window. He looked outside to find black clouds swarming over his apartment. Lightning flashed again with the rumble of thunder falling directly after. Not even time for one elephant in between.

Five more minutes.

Another crack of thunder with a flash of light following, shaking the house. The wind picked up, whistling a high-pitched song.

Four more minutes

“Maybe I should look up some videos on YouTube about what I can do with this tractor.”

Timothy opened up a new tab to find a message saying: “Could not connect to the internet because of bad connection, may be because of weather.”

“What?!” Timothy exploded aloud, quickly clicking back to his other tab to find the same message over his game. He slammed his fist down on the desk and the cat nearby jumped, frantically running away.

Timothy started to breathe heavily and fast, his anger rising.

“I won’t be able to get my tractor on time!” Timothy yelled and continuously slamming his fist on the desk so loud that he woke his sister up, who came trotting into the room.

“What’s going on?” she yawned, not fully awake yet and not aware of what was happening with Timothy. Another lightning bolt filled the sky with light as thunder boomed, startling Patricia.

“Where’s Porky?” she asked frantically, looking for her plump cat who was hiding from the storm.

“I... can’t... get... my... tractor!” boomed Timothy like the thunder outside. He was now up on his feet, pacing back in forth through the living room, tenseness filled his muscles. He continued to breathe heavily, tightening his fist.

“Timothy, have you took your medication?” Patricia asked him as she pulled out Porky from under the coffee table, struggling as he clawed the carpet. She pulled him up into her arms with a tight grip, assuring him that he was not going anywhere.

“I was going to after I harvested my crops and could level up and buy my tractor and then I got this stupid message that said the internet was down and I couldn’t harvest my crops so I couldn’t level up and now I can’t get my tractor!” Timothy blared out, his breaths becoming faster and shorter as if he had just ran a marathon. His tension was building by the looks of his shoulders as they crouched up his neck.

“Timothy, it’s going to be okay,” Patricia tried to assure him, slowly walking over to the area where he was pacing. “You can harvest your crops and buy your tractor after the storm has passed. You don’t need to do it the minute it happens.”

Timothy twisted his head to look at Patricia with an evil glare and stopped pacing, slowly calming down his breathing. ? “I need it now,” he said softly, just barely louder than a whisper.

“What did you say?” Patricia asked, still clutching Porky, inching closer to Timothy.

Timothy was silent for a few seconds.

“I need it now!” he howled as the thunder outside echoed him. He hurled towards Patricia, who surprisingly moved quickly enough for him to miss her and run into the kitchen. There was a cluster of noise that followed, and then Timothy was back in the living room facing Patricia, panting hard. Thunder grumbled in the background with flashes of lightning brightening the room.

“Timothy?” Patricia spoke softly, moving slowly towards him again.

Timothy then screamed out in rage, which made Porky struggle to get out of Patricia’s tight grip but managed to do so. As soon as Porky hit the floor, Timothy bolted after the cat, grabbing it’s fur and he hissed in disagreement. Patricia screamed as Timothy grabbed the cat and ran towards the window, quickly opening it and kicking the screen out. Timothy looked over at Patricia quickly, who was now crying and yelling for Porky, and smiled. He then turned around and tossed the cat out the window, followed by the meowing of a cat and the boom of thunder.

“Why did you do that?” Patricia cried, running over to the window.

Timothy didn’t answer. The look in the eyes showed the frustration he was feeling. He walked up to Patricia, looked her deep into her eyes, and then punched her in the face, bolting to the door, throwing it open, and running down the hall, heading towards the stairs. Patricia panicked. Afraid of what he was going to do next, she called her boyfriend Matt who lived in the apartment building next to theirs, informing him to try to calm him down. Then she called the cops because if he hit his sister, who knows who he would hit next.

The storm was still directly above the area, harsh winds and rain continuing. Timothy took cover under a low tree, beginning to calm down. No one was in the area, until he saw a short man running towards him.

“Great. Matt.” He thought. Matt stood about 5’3”, but in his mind, he believed he was a foot taller, a perfect example of short-man syndrome.

“Timothy! Timothy!” Matt yelled, crouching down to his level. “What did you do?”

Timothy wasn’t sure what set him off again. It may of been the look in Matt eyes that made him angry, like he was telling him he was stupid or something. But the next thing he knew, he was on top of Matt, pinning him down to the ground as he struggled to get released.

Next thing Timothy knew, the cops were there pulling him off Matt. Patricia was standing near by, crying and holding onto Porky who drooped over her arm as if he was stuffed. Timothy was the one who was stuffed though, stuffed into a back of a police car charged with second-degree assault, disorderly conduct and animal cruelty.

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